Page 39 of Claimed In Darkness

She hasn’t spoken a word to me since the night she tried to kill me in my sleep.

I think she’s still pissed that she failed.

Good.

I want her seething.

Every time she stares at me with murder in her eyes, I see something else beneath it.

Something deeper, volatile, and dark.

Something she doesn’t want to admit.

I keep my gaze on her as we travel, watching the way the wind tugs at her hair, the way her thighs tighten around the saddle.

She is not built for submission.

She is built for violence. For defiance.

But she wears my mark.

She wears my collar.

And now, she rides at my side.

I should not enjoy that as much as I do.

But fuck.

I am living for this, every moment of this.

Silence stretches between us, letting her stew in it, letting her believe she can ignore me forever.

But she can’t.

She never could.

"You look like you’re plotting something," I say, breaking the quiet.

Naira doesn’t even glance at me. "Oh, I am."

I smile, relaxing even more. "Do tell."

She exhales sharply, her grip tightening on the reins. "It involves your slow and painful death."

I chuckle, shifting in the saddle, deliberately invading her space as I lean in.

"You had your chance, little fox," I murmur. "And you wasted it."

She turns then, her gaze a promise.

"You won’t always be lucky."

I grin. "And yet, here I am. Still breathing. Still owning you."

She hates every reminder of her slavery.

I see it when her lips part, just barely, like she’s about to spit something sharp and unforgivable.

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